Chapter 5

On What Friends Are For

"Arnold, just come back, ok? I'm not done, there's more to it than that."

Gerald had hardly gotten out the word "kidnapped" before Arnold was half-way back down the ladder. He paused for a second and looked back at Gerald, but his face was full of anger.

"I don't care about the details, and you probably can't tell me the half of it anyway. I saw the lab earlier, there's police all over it. I can't get ahold of Phoebe, and you just said she's been kidnapped--"

"I said we think she might have been kidnapped."

"Whatever. Seems pretty clear to me." He started down again but stopped himself. "Might be? What other explanations are you looking at here?"

"Well..." it seemed even crazier to say aloud, to Arnold, than it had when he had first heard it. "She was dating that doctor guy--"

"Was. Hasn't been for a while now."

"Well, he's gone too. So, you know..." Arnold just looked at him. Gerald nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I know, you're right. It's just odd is all."

"Tell me about it in my room. Why the hell didn't you say this when you first came in?" He slid down the ladder and Gerald had to follow. Arnold was still ranting. "I'm messing around with lunch – lunch! -- and one of my best friends is tied up in a hole somewhere, scared and, and I don't even know what she's there for...maybe she doesn't..." He grabbed a ratty duffel bag out of his closet and started throwing clothes into it. "She was working on something she couldn't tell me about. It was for you, wasn't it?" he shot over his shoulder.

Gerald felt the blow full on. He made himself answer. "Yes. For the agency."

Arnold snorted. "The agency. She did it for you. For you and probably Helga as well. It's how it's always been. She gets dragged into your crazy plans and when things go bad, it's never you that ends up--"

"Ends up what? How about forced from the partner I love and actually work well with – who is, by the way probably the only person who could actually find Phoebe – stuck with some idiot girl who cares more about shoes than my friend while I watch my job go down the drain, all the while knowing that this whole thing is all my fault?"

Arnold zipped the bag shut. "I'm sorry." He didn't let Gerald interject. "I'm sorry your precious career is more important to you than Phoebe's life." He picked up the bag and put his hand on the doorknob. Gerald watched him tighten his grip around it for a second, then relax. When he looked up, the anger was gone.

"That wasn't fair of me, I know. I don't know the whole story. I'm sure she knew...knew what she was getting into. And I know you have rules. I just..." he put up his hands and shook his head.

"Yeah, me too." Gerald said in a relieved tone.

"It's Phoebe."

"I know."

Arnold stood there for a long second, then let his bag slip to the floor. He went and sat down on the bed.

"So tell me what else you know."

*****************

She knew who it was before she saw his face. Even with her lips as cracked as they were she managed to say his name. "Colic."

The man finished entering the room and shut the door behind him. He seemed unsurprised at Phoebe's recognition. "I asked you to call me Edward, I believe." But no smile appeared with the sentence.

Phoebe tried to shift so she could see him better. She was clothed now, at least, in some rough cotton pants and shirt that almost fit her, but her hands were now cuffed behind her. She had woken up this time on a mattress, alone in a small room with no lamp, though a window on one wall gave a good amount of natural light. She tried not to look out the window though – it was large enough for a person to fit through, but was located directly above a huge gorge with a river at the bottom. Clearly no one would survive going out that way. It made her dizzy just looking at it.

She pushed her back against the wall and used the leverage to sit up better, shaking her hair out of her eyes as she did so. Edward just stood and watched, his arms folded, until she had finished moving. She was thirsty, but didn't want to ask for a drink. So she just watched him back.

After a moment, he laughed. "Aren't you in the least bit curious about why you're here?"

"I assumed it has to do with what I was working on."

"And what was that, exactly?"

Phoebe didn't say anything, although she was sure Colic already knew. Why else would she be here? Indeed he didn't seem to expect her to answer, instead opening the door behind him again and bringing in what looked like a room service cart. She could smell breakfast – oatmeal and bacon, one of her favorites – and see water and even green tea on it. She did everything she could to keep from drooling. When did I eat last?

Edward saw her discomfort however. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you remember that one conference we went to together? I ordered you this very meal for breakfast." She remembered. She was having a hard time connecting that sweet man she had dated with the one towering over her now, though.

Without warning he was at her side. She stiffened and almost screamed, then realized that he was undoing her handcuffs. His hair smelled clean and familiar, and she had to force herself to remember that he was the reason those cuffs were there in the first place. Finished with the handcuffs, he paused and looked straight into her eyes. What is he doing? She made herself not look away, even when he brought a hand up and lightly touched her cheek.

Abruptly, he stood. Without saying anything else, he gestured towards the food, then left, closing the door again behind him. She heard the lock click.

What was that? She wasn't sure. Why feed her? Why keep her alive? Why was she even here?

Her mind was too tired for this. For now, she would just accept what she did know. There was one well worn wooden chair in the corner of the room. She dragged it over to the cart, and sat down to eat.

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A/N: Ok, so I'm on an update schedule of once every few years. Least it happens eventually...

I'm busy working on a "real" novel right now, but I've found that the less I do writing exercises like fan fiction, the less I do actual writing as well. So I've been blogging more, using Twitter more, and possibly doing this a little more too. I may finish it yet, who knows? --PJ